


Spin, Stutter, Stop, Fall

by blithelybonny



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dragons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 06:52:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1973094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blithelybonny/pseuds/blithelybonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie knows how to help hurt dragons, and sometimes, they help him too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spin, Stutter, Stop, Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my dear friend MK, who always reads over the weird shit I send her, even when she’s busy. Written for susannah-wilde, for the [Rare Pair Shorts](http://rarepair-shorts.livejournal.com/) Summer Wishlists Fest on LJ.

Charlie hefts the large bag of feed onto his shoulder and settles it, a grunt escaping his lips. He could have Levitated it, he supposes, but Shelby has been acting up around too much magic lately, so he doesn’t want to chance it. And besides, there’s something more honest about using the strength of his body, over than the strength of his wand.

He glances over when he hears the soft whine, and a smile comes to his lips, as he watches the Malfoy boy struggle under the weight of his own bag.

“You can use magic, kid. No one here will think the lesser of you,” he says.

Malfoy just adjusts the bag, chin jutting forward defiantly, and starts off toward the feeding troughs.

Charlie huffs a laugh and follows after him. He never thought he’d be amused by a Malfoy, but there’s something about this one--something that tugs at his heartstrings and reminds him of things he hasn’t thought of in a long time. The reserve has always been enough for him, the dragons all he needs.

Except maybe not anymore.

** ** **

Fred is never far from his mind, but it’s always hardest when the workday is done because as much as Charlie’s gotten used to the loneliness of the dragon reserve over the years, he knows he doesn’t have the luxury of just popping over to the Burrow or Bill and Fleur’s whenever he could use the kind of recharge he’s only ever gotten from spending time with his family. The dragon reserve is too remote; Romania, too far away, even with the efficiency of magical travel.

It’s coming up on a year, but sometimes it still feels like yesterday, when Charlie wakes up in a cold sweat from the nightmare of seeing his brother’s lifeless eyes. It’s a comfort to know, though, that he’s not the only one still afflicted.

The bunk shivers with Malfoy’s attempt to suppress his grief and stifle his sobs, and Charlie decides he’s had enough of listening to the boy pretend he’s not lonely, afraid and desperate for something familiar. Charlie knows exactly what that’s like--he felt it every day for a month when he first got to the reserve, and he feels it now, even though the reserve has essentially been home for ten years.

He climbs down the ladder and seats himself on the edge of Malfoy’s bed. Malfoy stills, but says nothing.

Charlie brushes his hand over Malfoy’s back, trailing down the ridge of his spine. Malfoy’s too thin; he’s clearly not eating as he should be, and Charlie’s nurturing instinct flares up fiercely. “You need to take better care of yourself,” he says, brushing his burn-calloused fingers along the nape of Malfoy’s neck. “You won’t last here otherwise.”

“I’ll manage,” Malfoy whispers, but the tension that had tightened his shoulders lessens.

** ** **

Shelby opens wide her massive wings and spits a burst of flame into the air, agitated. Charlie bends his head, offering his own neck in a show of supplication, and the other wranglers make their way cautiously around to try and herd her back into the pen.

“Weasley, no!”

The shout comes from the far end of the feeding area, catching him off guard, and he turns and sees Malfoy standing there, looking on in terror. He immediately realizes his mistake when Shelby roars and the flames streak past his side. He closes his eyes--he will definitely feel the burn tomorrow.

** ** **

Charlie lays in the medical tent, idly sketching out a drawing of Shelby in flight, thankful that his dominant hand hadn’t been too badly damaged. He won’t be able to hold his wand or a pencil the way he used to, but it’s doing interesting things to his normal style.

The tent flap opens, but Charlie doesn’t need to look up to know who’s visiting him. He’s only had the one visitor because there’s only one person on the reserve who feels guilty enough about injuring someone to shirk his other responsibilities. Charlie smiles anyway.

“Weasley?”

“Come on over, I don’t bite,” Charlie replies, flicking a glance Malfoy’s way before returning to his drawing.

Malfoy slinks in, like a dog that knows it’s done something wrong--two steps backward for every one forward. But finally, he reaches Charlie’s bedside and tentatively lowers himself to sit on the edge. He says nothing and looks down at his hands--somehow still pale and perfect, even after weeks of sun exposure and manual labor. Then he lifts one and cautiously drags his fingertips along Charlie’s bandaged left hand. “I--well, that is I--” he stutters, and Charlie knows apologies can be impossible for people who haven’t had much practice with them.

“We’re good, Malfoy,” he says, threading his fingers with the boy’s own. “Aren’t we?”

Malfoy nods, and his lips quirk up for the barest moment into something that might have been a smile. Charlie smiles back.

**Author's Note:**

> Return to LJ to comment [here](http://rarepair-shorts.livejournal.com/516396.html), if you like!


End file.
